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Normally, an MC president wasn’t too keen on one of his guys going off on side jobs for friends. That being said, most patched members didn’t have quite as much to bring to the table because of those connections as I did.
So every once in a while, I had to cut out for a day or two to nourish those connections that we might someday need.
Our differences, though, were what had always made us a good crew. I was meticulous and prepared. Cato was on his toes and ready for anything. And Levee managed to bring some levity and roots for us, keeping us grounded.
“Maybe you wouldn’t mind sitting around the pool all day if you all would call in some pretty honeys to keep you company,” Eddie said, shaking his head.
“The man’s got a point,” Cato agreed.
“Even I have to agree on that one,” Levee said. “I thought a main tenet of being a biker meant there were clubwhores around all the time.”
“Yeah, but your ugly ass would have to find some that want to come hang out here,” Huck said, coming in from the front, giving Levee a smirk.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you moved the club out to Bumfuck, Nowhere,” Levee objected. “Kind of hard to get a boatload of hot chicks to follow you out to the ‘burbs. Fuck, it’s not even the ‘burbs out here,” he said, shaking his head.
“You get your clubhouse blown the fuck up right in the center of Miami, and you tell me you’d stay and rebuild there,” Huck said, going to make himself a bowl of food.
“Won’t tell Harmon,” Eddie said, zipping his lips.
“You kidding? She wants me to bring back, and I quote, ‘Whatever the fuck delicious concoction Eddie has whipped up’,” Huck said, making Eddie smile. “The kids, though, they’ll pass. They’re in a chicken nuggets and mac & cheese phase. And we’re in a ‘so long as they’re fucking eating something’ phase,” he added, taking a bite and closing his eyes. “This doesn’t taste like powdered cheese sauce.”
“Not in my kitchen,” Eddie said, looking horrified at the prospect.
“So, you got a job lined up?” I asked.
“This probably should be a proper church meeting, but I already discussed it with McCoy, Che, and Remy last night,” Huck said.
“And that is my cue to go check on the tortoise,” Eddie said, grabbing a handful of greens he’d set aside for just that task, then heading out back to where the ancient thing had a giant enclosure to call home. Which was why he’d stayed behind at the clubhouse when Remy had moved with his girl and all their other pets. He was happy here. As was the macaw that had climbed down from his perch to steal a chip off of the table.
“You’re probably not supposed to have that,” Donovan told the bird.
“Fuck you, Benny,” the bird shot back before taking a big, crunching bite of the chip.
Fuck you, Bennywas the bird’s favorite thing to say. Whoever Benny was, he was clearly hated by the bird’s previous owner.
“Alright,” Huck said once Eddie was outside. “We decided to branch out more,” Huck told us.
“I thought we were as branched out as we could get here,” Alaric said, mixing his food more than eating it.
“Yes. And no. I had an interesting offer recently. And after talking about it with the president of our mother chapter, debating shit out for a couple of weeks, we both decided it is probably smart to give it a go.”
“Give what a go?”
“Exporting,” Huck said, shrugging. “It’s where the money, where expansion, is available at this point. The numbers just don’t lie. Most guns on the black markets overseas originate here. We’re missing out on the majority of the market by keeping shit mostly local. We deal in clean guns. Clean guns go for top dollar. Same gun we might make four hundred on, can go for over two grand if exported,” Huck explained.
“And the demand is bigger,” Donovan said because he, like me, had grown up in the criminal underbelly. Even though he’d only run an illegal street racing operation, he rubbed shoulders with all other sorts of guys in every sort of organization.
“Yeah, with gun bans being stricter, definitely,” Huck agreed. “Are those fresh scallions?” Huck asked as he plopped some sour cream on top of his bowl.
“Yeah,” Levee said, handing them over.
Huck was eating like he hadn’t had a proper meal in days. And, I guess, if your kids were on a nugget and mac & cheese diet, you probably ate a bunch of that shit too.
“What kind of connection is this?” I asked, watching Huck turn in my direction.
“A stable one. He’s an arms dealer himself, obviously. Has a big operation going for himself, but he’s struggling to meet his needs with his current partners. We have the unique ability to be able to fulfill a lot of orders. What, between what we can already do, and what we can be doing moving forward if Slash will get on board too.”
“Slash…” Cato repeated, trying to place the name.
